Here, I would have to make my choice.

Normal people would not have to make this choice, for it would be obvious to them. Normal people would not be standing on top of this bridge, thinking about their choices. Normal people would not have the name of Bella DeLune, which is the name I am cursed or blessed with. I am not a normal person. I am standing on top of this bridge. I am making this choice.

The sun is shining cruelly, as if what I am about to do does not affect the weather. It blinds me, glints violently off of the shiny object I hold in my hand. The cars are rushing by, not casting their thoughts to the strange figure standing on the bridge. This only enforces the choice I am about to make; no one cares about my figure on the bridge. No one minds the shiny object I hold in my hand. They only celebrate the warmth of the sun that burns my skin.

You see, I am at a crossroads.

It is a crossroads between life and death, between pushing on and giving up. I could keep my pain inside, or I could let it out. But whoever finds me between Now and Then shall never know which one I chose. Now and Then is also a crossroad; it could happen Now, or Then, but maybe it won’t even happen at all. You see, I am Bella DeLune, standing on top of this bridge, holding a shiny object in my hand, standing at a crossroads.

This bridge is my crossroads.

The water under the bridge churns gently, reflecting the sun’s rays in a muddy green color. This river is also a choice; not necessary, but useful. The cars speed across the bridge that I am standing on, shiny like the object in my hand. The people inside have not a care in the world about me, standing on top of this bridge, ready to make a choice. The sun doesn’t care either; it’s still shining as if it doesn’t care what will happen to me, Bella DeLune, looking down at the gently churning, muddy green river.

The last car has whooshed by, leaving me some peace as to make my choice.

And suddenly, the crossroads becomes clearer than ever.

It is right now that I have to make this choice, the choice that normal people don’t have to make, standing on top of a bridge, holding a sharp, shiny object in their hand, with a choice being the only thing they have that keeps them from walking away. But I can’t walk away from this choice; I have already made it!
I am Bella DeLune, plunging this sharp, shiny knife into my skin, bleeding out as I pitch toward the muddy green water of the river, my eyes losing focus as I slowly die of my own choice. The crossroads has disappeared, and so has my soul. Down to the bottom of the river floats the body of Bella DeLune.